A
Fragment
By George
Gordon, Lord Byron
(A Fragment is the precursor to
Dracula)
In the year 17-, having for some
time determined on a journey through countries not hitherto much frequented by
travellers I set out, accompanied by a friend, whom I shall designate by the
name of Augustus Darvell. He was a few years my elder, and a man of
considerable fortune and ancient family -- advantages which an extensive
capacity prevented him alike from undervaluing or overrating. Some peculiar
circumstances in his private history had rendered him to me an object of
attention, of interest, and even of regard, which neither the reserve of his
manners, nor occasional indications of an inquietude at times nearly
approaching to alienation of mind, could extinguish.
I was yet young in life, which I
had begun early; but my intimacy with him was of a recent date: we had been
educated at the same schools and university; but his progress through these had
preceded mine, and he had been deeply initiated into what is called the world,
while I was yet in my noviciate. While thus engaged, I had heard much both of his
past and present life; and although in these accounts there were many and
irreconcileable contradictions, I could still gather from the whole that he was
a being of no common order, and one who, whatever pains he might take to avoid
remark, would still be remarkable. I had cultivated his acquaintance
subsequently, and endeavoured to obtain his friendship, but this last appeared
to be unattainable; whatever affections he might have possessed seemed now,
some to have been extinguished, and others to be concentred: that his feelings
were acute, I had sufficient opportunities of observing; for, although he could
control, he could not altogether disguise them: still he had a power of giving
to one passion the appearance of another in such a manner that it was difficult
to define the nature of what was working within him; and the expressions of his
features would vary so rapidly, though slightly, that it was useless to trace
them to their sources. It was evident that he was a prey to some cureless
disquiet; but whether it arose from ambition, love, remorse, grief, from one or
all of these, or merely from a morbid temperament akin to disease, I could not
discover: there were circumstances alleged, which might have justified the
application to each of these causes; but, as I have before said, these were so
contradictory and contradicted, that none could be fixed upon with accuracy.
Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also be evil:
I know not how this may be, but in him there certainly was the one, though I
could not ascertain the extent of the other -- and felt loth, as far as
regarded himself, to believe in its existence. My advances were received with
sufficient coldness; but I was young, and not easily discouraged, and at length
succeeded in obtaining, to a certain degree, that common-place intercourse and
moderate confidence of common and every day concerns, created and cemented by
similarity of pursuit and frequency of meeting, which is called intimacy, or
friendship, according to the ideas of him who uses those words to express them.
Darvell had already travelled
extensively; and to him I had applied for information with regard to the
conduct of my intended journey. It was my secret wish that he might be
prevailed on to accompany me: it was also a probable hope, founded upon the
shadowy restlessness which I had observed in him, and to which the animation
which he appeared to feel on such subjects, and his apparent indifference to
all by which he was more immediately surrounded, gave fresh strength. This wish
I first hinted, and then expressed: his answer, though I had partly expected
it, gave me all the pleasure of surprise -- he consented; and, after the
requisite arrangements, we commenced our voyages. After journeying through various
countries of the south of Europe, our attention was turned towards the East,
according to our original destination; and it was in my progress through those
regions that the incident occurred upon which will turn what I may have to
relate.
The constitution of Darvell,
which must from his appearance have been in early life more than usually
robust, had been for some time gradually giving way, without the intervention
of any apparent disease: he had neither cough nor hectic, yet he became daily
more enfeebled: his habits were temperate, and he neither declined nor
complained of fatigue, yet he was evidently wasting away: he became more and
more silent and sleepless, and at length so seriously altered, that my alarm
grew proportionate to what I conceived to be his danger.
We had determined, on our arrival
at Smyrna, on an excursion to the ruins of Ephesus and Sardis, from which I
endeavoured to dissuade him in his present state of indisposition -- but in
vain: there appeared to be an oppression on his mind, and a solemnity in his
manner, which ill corresponded with his eagerness to proceed on what I regarded
as a mere party of pleasure, little suited to a valetudinarian; but I opposed
him no longer -- and in a few days we set off together, accompanied only by a
serrugee and a single janizary.
We had passed halfway towards the
remains of Ephesus, leaving behind us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and
were entering upon that wild and tenantless track through the marshes and
defiles which lead to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of
Diana -- the roofless walls of expelled Christianlty, and the still more recent
but complete desolation of abandoned mosques -- when the sudden and rapid
illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish cemetery, the turbaned
tombstones of which were the sole indication that human life had ever been a
sojourner in this wilderness. The only caravansera we had seen was left some
hours behind us, not a vestige of a town or even cottage was within sight or
hope, and this "city of the dead" appeared to be the sole refuge for
my unfortunate friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its
inhabitants.
In this situation, I looked round
for a place where he might most conveniently repose: -- contrary to the usual
aspect of Mohometan burial-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number,
and these thinly scattered over its extent: the tombstones were mostly fallen,
and worn with age: -- upon one of the most considerable of these, and beneath
one of the most spreading trees, Darvell supported himself, in a half-reclining
posture, with great difficulty. He asked for water. I had some doubts of our
being able to find any, and prepared to go in search of it with hesitating
despondency -- but he desired me to remain; and turning to Suleiman, our
janizary, who stood by us smoking with great tranquillity, he said,
"Suleiman, verbana su," (i.e. bring some water,) and went on
describing the spot where it was to be found with great minuteness, at a small
well for camels, a few hundred yards to the right: the janizary obeyed. I said
to Darvell, "How did you know this?" -- He replied, "From our
situation; you must perceive that this place was once inhabited, and could not
have been so without springs: I have also been here before."
"You have been here before!
-- How came you never to mention this to me? and what could you be doing in a
place where no one would remain a moment longer than they could help it?"
To this question I received no
answer. In the mean time Suleiman returned with the water, leaving the serrugee
and the horses at the fountain. The quenching of his thirst had the appearance
of reviving him for a moment; and I conceived hopes of his being able to
proceed, or at least to return, and I urged the attempt. He was silent -- and
appeared to be collecting his spirits for an effort to speak. He began.
"This is the end of my
journey, and of my life -- I came here "to die: but I have a request to
make, a command -- for such my "last words must be -- You will observe
it?"
"Most certainly; but have
better hopes."
"I have no hopes, nor
wishes, but this -- conceal my death from every human being."
"I hope there will be no
occasion; that you will recover, and -- "
"Peace! -- it must be so:
promise this."
"I do."
"Swear it, by all that"
-- He here dictated an oath of great solemnity.
"There is no occasion for
this -- I will observe your request; and to doubt me is -- "
"It cannot be helped, -- you
must swear."
I took the oath: it appeared to
relieve him. He removed a seal ring from his finger, on which were some Arabic
characters, and presented it to me. He proceeded --
"On the ninth day of the
month, at noon precisely (what month you please, but this must be the day), you
must fling this ring into the salt springs which run into the Bay of Eleusis:
the day after, at the same hour, you must repair to the ruins of the temple of
Ceres, and wait one hour."
"Why?"
"You will see."
"The ninth day of the month,
you say?"
"The ninth."
As I observed that the present
was the ninth day of the month, his countenance changed, and he paused. As he
sate, evidently becoming more feeble, a stork, with a snake in her beak,
perched upon a tombstone near us; and, without devouring her prey, appeared to
be stedfastly regarding us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away. but
the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned
exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled: he spoke -- I know
not whether to himself or to me -- but the words were only, "'Tis
well!"
"What is well? what do you
mean?"
"No matter: you must bury me
here this evening, and exactly where that bird is now perched. You know the
rest of my injunctions."
He then proceeded to give me
several directions as to the manner in which his death might be best concealed.
After these were finished, he exclaimed, "You perceive that bird?"
"Certainly."
"And the serpent writhing in
her beak?"
"Doubtless: there is nothing
uncommon in it; it is her natural "prey. But it is odd that she does not
devour it."
He smiled in a ghastly manner,
and said, faintly, "It is not yet "time!" As he spoke, the stork
flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment, it could hardly be longer than ten
might be counted. I felt Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my
shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!
I was shocked with the sudden
certainty which could not be mistaken -- his countenance in a few minutes
became nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had
I not been aware that he had no opportunity of receiving it unperceived. The
day was declining, the body was rapidly altering, and nothing remained but to
fulfil his request. With the aid of Suleiman's ataghan and my own sabre, we
scooped a shallow grave upon the spot which Darvell had indicated: the earth
easily gave way, having already received some Mahometan tenant. We dug as
deeply as the time permitted us, and throwing the dry earth upon all that
remained of the singular being so lately departed, we cut a few sods of greener
turf from the less withered soil around us, and laid them upon his sepulchre.
Between astonishment and grief, I
was tearless.
June 17, 1816.